


just a notch in your bedpost

by squilf



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 15:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19201321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squilf/pseuds/squilf
Summary: Crowley might not havequiteas many notches in his bedpost as he has allowed Aziraphale to believe.





	just a notch in your bedpost

“I expect you know a lot more about this than I do,” Aziraphale says, a little flustered, and oh, Crowley loves him when he’s flustered, but not as much as he loves knowing that _he_ put the colour in those rosy cheeks – and exactly _how_ he did it, “Lust and temptations are your department.”

Crowley shrugs with one shoulder. He does _quite_ like Aziraphale admiring his roguish ways, but he likes kissing him a lot more.

“Well, I do my best,” he says, his voice low.

“Quite,” Aziraphale says, his eyes fluttering shut as Crowley leans in for another kiss.

This thing between them is still pretty new. Aziraphale’s neighbours and regulars have started referring to him as ‘the boyfriend’, and Crowley’s convinced his plants think he’s going soft – he’s still threatening them, but now it’s because he wants them to grow the most beautiful flowers to give to Aziraphale. But otherwise, it’s life as usual. Just with true, unbidden, overflowing joy. In thousands of years, Crowley has never been _half_ as happy as he has been these past few months.

There’s been plenty of hand holding and kissing and other wonderful things that make Aziraphale turn pink and tell him off. But Crowley has been the perfect gentleman, arriving at the bookshop with flowers to take him for lunch, even walking him to his door and _not_ coming in for cocoa – which he knows, all things considered, is probably just cocoa – but the point is, he’s preserved his angel’s honour.

Crowley wants more, and he thinks Aziraphale does too, but he’s nothing if not patient. He’s been in love a lot longer than Aziraphale has. If his angel needs another hundred years, or grand gestures, or hell, a diamond ring, he’ll get it. Crowley has no intention of ever letting him go again.

Which is why he’s so surprised that Aziraphale is making out with him in the back of the Bentley. Surprised and very, _very_ pleased.

Aziraphale’s lips are soft, his breath warm against Crowley’s mouth, and Crowley presses against him gently, sweetly.

“Just out of interest,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley clears his throat, pulling back. Aziraphale is fidgety, his hands rubbing up and down his thighs.

“How many mortals would you say you’ve… seduced?”

Aziraphale wrinkles his nose.

“Just a rough estimate.”

“Oh,” Crowley says, “You know I’ve been kicking around on earth a long time, angel.”

Aziraphale flashes him a nervous smile.

“Of course.”

“You know it doesn’t matter, don’t you?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Aziraphale says, slapping Crowley’s thigh, “Of _course_.”

Crowley smiles.

“Good.”

He leans in for another kiss.

“It’s just,” Aziraphale says, stopping him short, “I don’t exactly have much experience with this sort of thing and, well, I’m a little nervous of getting it wrong.”

Crowley takes his hand, squeezes it.

“Don’t be. Just… tell me if it’s too much, or you want to stop, okay?”

Aziraphale smiles.

“I trust you, Crowley.”

“Let me take care of you,” Crowley says, and kisses him.

Aziraphale kisses him back, hesitant at first, but then his hands come up to Crowley’s waist and hold on tight, and _yes_ , this is good, this is _brilliant_.

“Am I doing alright?” Aziraphale asks.

“Perfect,” Crowley says against his mouth.

“You’re not… comparing me to other people?”

Crowley cradles Aziraphale’s head in his hands.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, and he doesn’t often say his name – he prefers pet names, something that no one else calls him, something that _he_ owns, “I’ve compared everyone I’ve ever met to you.”

A smile blossoms on Aziraphale’s face, shy but radiant. It makes something stab in Crowley’s stomach. He thinks it’s because he wants to spend the rest of his life making him smile that way.

“Gosh,” Aziraphale says, and it probably says a lot about Crowley that he finds it utterly adorable.

He kisses Aziraphale again, slipping him a little tongue, and Aziraphale squeaks.

“Is that really how it’s done?”

“Generally, yes,” Crowley says, “Don’t you like it?”

“No, I do, it just… took me by surprise.”

“Well, now you know it’s coming,” Crowley says, kissing him a little harder this time.

He pushes Aziraphale’s mouth open with his tongue, gets a little sloppy with it, because he likes the look of his angel with his lips red and shining and his pupils blown wide.

“That okay?” Crowley murmurs, a little breathless.

Aziraphale hums in assent and moves to kiss him back, but the angle’s not right and their teeth clack together.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Aziraphale says, looking stricken, “I’m getting it all wrong, aren’t I?”

“Shh,” Crowley says reassuringly, “You’ve just not had a lot of practice. But I am _more_ than happy to teach you.”

Crowley wiggles his eyebrows, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem convinced.

“I don’t know, Crowley. I’m an angel, I really shouldn’t be doing this, anyway. It is a sin, after all.”

“So is everything that’s any fun,” Crowley says airily.

“Is that all this is to you?”

Crowley freezes.

“Angel, you _know_ I –”

“Because I know you demons don’t think anything of committing sins or, or, seducing people for your own enjoyment, but this actually means something to me. I suppose I’m just another… scratch on your bedpost!”

“It’s notch.”

“What?”

“It’s notch on your bedpost.”

“Well, of course _you_ would know,” Aziraphale mutters, “You have so many.”

“I don’t, actually!” Crowley blurts, “Because if it hasn’t escaped your attention, I’ve spent the last six thousand years being in love with you!”

Aziraphale stares at him. Crowley sighs, tipping his head back.

“I’m a bloody… blushing virgin. Same as you.”

Crowley sneaks a look at Aziraphale. His face is very, very soft.

“About that,” Aziraphale says.

“ _What_.”

Crowley’s head snaps back up.

“I knew it,” he says, “I bloody _knew_ it, Oscar fucking Wilde, oh, so it wasn’t enough for me to tell him what I’d do to him if he touched you, and ruin a couple of opening nights –”

“You did _what_?”

“I saw the way he looked at you! And so did you, apparently.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says gently, “Nothing happened with Oscar.”

Crowley narrows his eyes.

“Was it Byron? I never liked him.”

“ _Or_ Byron,” Aziraphale says, “Though not for lack of trying on his part.”

“Da Vinci?”

“What is this list of… potential deflowerers?”

Crowley shrugs, noncommittal.

“I just liked to keep an eye on you.”

“Are there no women on it?”

“Angel,” Crowley says, “I can honestly say that in six thousand years of human history, no one has ever come to the conclusion that you were interested in women.”

“That actually explains quite a lot,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully.

He slips his hand into Crowley’s.

“I’ve never had any… shenanigans with mortals. What I _was_ trying to tell you was that you didn’t have to lie to me.”

Crowley sighs.

“I thought you’d expect… I didn’t want to let you down.”

“I didn’t want to let _you_ down.”

“I’m sorry, angel.”

Aziraphale squeezes his hand.

“I think it’s nice,” he says brightly, “It means we can work it out together.”

Crowley smiles and pulls Aziraphale onto his lap.

“Well,” he says, “There’s a few things I think you can help me work out right now.”

Aziraphale wriggles closer, presses his whole body against Crowley’s.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, his eyes flicking down, “Is that…?”

“Uh-huh,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale kisses him, inexperienced but _very_ enthusiastic, and it’s so wonderful Crowley thinks he’d happily wait another six thousand years just to have this ridiculous angel in his arms. And then Aziraphale peels his jacket off, and Crowley really, _really_ doesn’t deserve this, but he’s damn well taking it anyway.

Aziraphale grins, beautiful and a little wicked.

“No time like the present.”

**Author's Note:**

> As all emo kids will have noticed, the title comes from [Sugar We’re Goin Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhG-vLZrb-g) by Fall Out Boy.


End file.
